


Choices

by MWolfe13



Series: Hermione In A Galaxy Far Far Away [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Aurors, Clone Wars, Darkstaff, F/M, Forms of Abuse, Jedi, Sith, Sith Artifact, Soulmate Crossover, Tags will be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MWolfe13/pseuds/MWolfe13
Summary: The Darkstaff was evil, it turned even the truest of heroes from the light. It was too bad Hermione didn't realize it before it was too late.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Hermione In A Galaxy Far Far Away [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662382
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: Hermione's Haven: May the Fourth be With You





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for May The Fourth Be With You in Hermione's Haven FanFiction! 
> 
> I'm pretty excited to share this story with you guys! It's not finished yet, but it soon will be! This replaces the Father, Son, Daughter episode. And yes, I apologize for my summary and title. They are the banes of my muse's existence.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Star Wars. The sandboxes were just asking to be combined again and played with!

Hermione and Harry walked down the street of Knockturn Alley. Witches and Wizards alike shifted at the sight of them, some turning away to avoid attention. It wasn’t often the pair were down here. The word “illegal” was an ignored concept in this part of Wizarding Britain. The Auror department would normally send the pair that screwed up most that week for grunt work in Knockturn Alley, the punishment usually met with defeated sighs and grumbles.

They certainly hadn’t messed up enough to warrant that punishment but when Borgin and Burkes personally reported a crime in their store, the Ministry tended to sit up and listen.

Hermione wondered what could possibly have happened. She’s already surmised it was bad, or the family that often operated on that fine line of the law wouldn’t have bothered getting the Ministry involved. The shop was full of dark artifacts. They ran the risk of either Hermione or Harry being petty enough to order a search once they’d stepped through the shop. The probable cause was everywhere. Yet, the owner had been shaken during his initial firecall. Whatever had happened had spooked them so bad Kingsley had used his influence as Minister to assign them to this case.

_ Hello there. _

__ The words, spoken in the back of her mind, washed over Hermione like a blanket of peace. She’d been hearing that phrase at times for as long as she could remember. The man’s voice was warm, eternally calm with a hint of an accent that Hermione couldn’t seem to place. It was exactly British or Scottish, but somewhere in between. He was her soulmate, the man that spoke the two words Hermione had never heard from anyone. She often wondered what her words would be to him.

Harry speaking brought Hermione out of her thoughts on her soulmate. “Hopefully this turns out to be nothing. We haven’t exactly been lazing around the last few days.”

That was true. The Auror department had been busy as of late, the surprising heatwave passing over Britain making even the most even-tempered Wizard in a terrible mood. “I think it’ll be more complicated than that, Harry. Borgin and Burkes would normally let this place burn to the ground than involve the Ministry in their business. You saw Mr. Burke… He was pretty shaken.”

Harry took off his glasses, rubbing his palms against his tired eyes. “Your words to Merlin’s ears. It always happens that way.”

Hermione patted his back in sympathy. She was bordering the line of second wind and exhaustion, only the energy potion she’d taken this morning giving her a sense of normalcy. It wouldn’t last. “Auror mode. We’re here.”

Harry put his glasses back on, his face transforming from tired to hardened in a second. There would be no complaints now, only professionalism. Hermione prepared herself, both drawing their wands, before turning the brass knob of the shopfront and entering the store.

She clenched her teeth against the wave of dark magic that permeated the front room. Her experiences in the war had left her more attuned to the feeling of dark magic, a kind of radar that complimented her chosen profession. In places like this, where the magic was so ingrained that it seeped from the walls, the darkness threatened to drown her. It was a fight she had to overcome, all while giving off the appearance that she wasn’t affected. Harry knew the routine by now, carefully making observations like they would a crime scene to give off the impression they were taking things in before doing anything else. Hermione randomly nodded when his voice paused, giving the illusion she was paying the utmost attention. 

When she could concentrate on his words again, she subtly arched her back. Harry finished his last sentence, moving with her to the backroom Borgin and Burkes used as an office.

Mr. Burke was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, eyes on his clasped hands. He looked up when they knocked on the panel of the doorway. “Potter, Granger, I should have known they’d send you two.”

“Your complaint sounded important. The Ministry is willing to do all they can to help,” Harry stated. Hermione was content to let him take the lead, for now, moving to lean against the wall and observe. “You were vague in your description to the receiving Auror’s, Mr. Burke. Can you tell us what happened?”

Burke closed his eyes, lifting a shaking hand to his graying hair. “For that… You need to hear everything.”

Harry sent a frustrated glance at Hermione. They both knew this case wouldn’t be simple.

“Long ago, when my ancestors first built this shop, a magic staff came into our possession. We thought it a normal Wizard’s staff, a powerful one considering how odd it was. We displayed it in our shop, but not for sale. No, my family wanted this piece of magic to stay in our House.” Burke’s lips twisted in a half-smile when he looked at them. “You may not know this, but our family legacy was not always of the darker magicks. We had always been a neutral Gray family.”

“You can’t say that now,” Harry pointed out without a hint of censure. Hermione gave him a sharp look, wasted as he wasn’t looking at her. Mr. Burke may not have heard it, but she knew her fellow Auror. Contempt dripped from him like sweat on a particularly hot day.

“That is correct, Potter. We lost our neutral status a long time ago.” Mr. Burke stood from his seat. “It was the staff. No one in my line understood until it was too late.”

“Now your claim is that a magic staff turned your family evil,” Harry scoffed. “Give me a break, Mister Burke.”

Burke glanced at him sharply. “I see you your magical knowledge is sorely lacking. A consequence of your upbringing, no doubt. Yet, that is no excuse.” He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers. “You know what I’m talking about, Miss Granger.”

She did. Hermione gave Harry an apologetic side-eye before nodding. “The staff is sentient then, to have influence over an entire family. Did someone steal this staff, Mr. Burke?”

He looked into the fire, brows furrowed. “I cannot say for certain that it was  _ stolen _ . The staff was powerful, as I said, able to conceal itself when it didn’t want to be found.”

“You think it controlled someone enough for them to take it?”

Burke looked up, displeasure coming off him in waves. “I don’t see why it would do that. We have done everything it ever asked! There has not been an ounce of disobedience since our family turned. We’ve-” His mouth closed forcefully, harsh breathing filling the room. 

Harry’s eyes lit up at his words, but Hermione clamped a hand on his shoulder to stop his next question. Yes, it was very likely Mr. Burke had been about to confess to a crime his family committed. But his eyes were edging on wild, his body starting to shake the tiniest bit. She knew if they arrested him based on any confession he made now, the case would be thrown out. 

“We’ll look for the staff, Mr. Burke.”

His shoulders sagged, his body sinking back into the chair. “I would appreciate it, Miss Granger. The staff belongs to my family.”

Hermione kept a warning grip on Harry until they were leaving the edge of Knockturn Alley, the bright sunlight filling Diagon Alley welcome like a breath of fresh air. Harry pulled away from her, his face confused and angry. “What the hell was that, Mione?”

She sighed, “You need to trust me on this. Sentient magical items, they can influence even the strongest of minds if they’re powerful enough. For this staff to have turned the entire Burke family from Gray to Dark… He’s going through a type of withdrawal from the staff. Any admission of guilt he makes at this time will be a waste of paperwork.”

“Where do you suppose we start looking then?” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. “If what Burke said is true, the staff may not want to be found.”

“We’ll do our due diligence and check the usual places,” Hermione decided. “But you’re right. If the staff doesn’t want to be found, I have a feeling we won’t find it.”    


* * *

**Week 1**

Hermione looked up at the sound of a letter landing in her mail carrier. She recognized Harry’s messy scrawl on the simple envelope. He was taking the day off, Hermione having lost the coin toss for paperwork. The rise in violence they’d experienced was settling down now, the entire Auror department breathing a collective sigh of relief. Hermione was sure Harry would be dead asleep for the next twelve hours at the least, not sending mail straight to her desk from his home.

Shaking her head, she quickly opened it, wondering what could possibly be so important when he  _ knew _ she was just as eager to go home.

_ You need to come to my place. It’s the staff. _

Two sentences, a total of ten words, had Hermione jumping from her seat. They’d found nothing on the dark artifact over the last few days. Burke had owled every day asking for news, his words hard to read as each day passed. They’d had nothing to tell him. Until now.

Hermione used the Auror’s floo, the flames depositing her in Grimmauld’s receiving room within seconds. “Harry! I’m here!”

Harry thundered down the stairs, looking relieved to see her. Hermione looked him over, noticing his hair was damp and the water from it had created a wet trail down his shirt. She frowned. “Did I get you out of the shower? I swear your letter barely arrived.”

He shook his head, sending droplets of water in every direction. Hermione rolled her eyes when she felt some land on her arms. “No, I’ve been out. I just… You have to see it to believe it.”

He turned and walked back up the stairs, Hermione following after him. “Harry, what is it? You mentioned the staff. Did you get a lead?”

“Oh, I have a lead alright.” Harry lead her to the double doors of the library. “I thought I felt something, magic, so I came to check it out. You’ll never guess…”

Hermione stopped just shy of bumping into her best friend’s sudden still form. She peeked around his shoulder, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. “What is it?”

Suddenly, Harry was tearing through the room. “Impossibly. It was  _ just  _ here. I saw the bloody thing clear as day.”

She cautiously leaned against the doorframe, watching him throw papers off the desk in the middle of the room, a paperweight following after. His eyes were frustrated, his glasses making the green orbs seem bigger than they were. “Harry…”

He whirled on her, eyes alight as he walked back to her. “Hermione! I swear I didn’t call you here for nothing! The staff was here, Burke’s staff.”

Hermione hadn’t seen anything resembling what Mr. Burke had described, but Harry’s passionate insistence told her to tread carefully. “I believe you. When did you first notice it?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I told you. I’d just come out of the shower when I felt foreign magic through my Wards. I followed the trail to the library, and it was right there on the desk, just as Burke described.” He frowned. “It’s still here somewhere. I can feel it.”

She lifted a brow in question. “Pardon?”

“Don’t you?” Harry’s eyes narrowed. “It’s like an oily film in the air. How can you not be affected? I can feel it pressing down on me.”

“Yes, of course.” Hermione straightened, gripping Harry’s arm and started pulling him down the stairs. “Come, we’ll have some tea while we sort this out. Don’t you remember what Mister Burke said? I’m sure it’s hiding.”

Hermione let him ramble about ways to find the magic item while she quickly went about making the tea. She made the appropriate noises here and there, searching the potions cupboard until she found what she needed. Harry didn’t realize what she was doing, too busy theorizing to pay attention to her movements. When Hermione carried two steaming cups and sat on the edge of the table, Harry took his without hesitation, drinking half the liquid in one go.

It wasn’t long before Hermione was slipping the mug from his hands, catching his forehead in her palm before his face could hit the table. She gently levitated him up to his room, methodically undressing him and making sure he was comfortable before slipping out and closing the door.

Keeping her wand in hand, she went back to the library. It was in disarray now that Harry had torn through it. She swept the room for any traces of dark magic, shaking her head when the room came back clean. When they’d first moved Harry back in here, it had taken months to cleanse the property of dark magic. The foul feeling had seeped into the walls, Hermione hadn’t been able to stay for longer than a few hours in the beginning. Finding nothing now both relieved and scared her. 

The staff wouldn’t have been able to hide from her for long. She was attuned to darker magic, her experiences making her as good as a dark detector. To find nothing sent Hermione’s concern for Harry into overdrive. He’d been fine before he left the office. Maybe he’d worked some more without telling her and his mind finally cracked from exhaustion? She could see him doing that. Harry was never good about taking care of himself when he was obsessing. Merlin knew he’d been frustrated over having no leads on the staff.

She checked his Wards over, just in case, and decided to call it a day when she found nothing out of the ordinary.

* * *

**Week 2**

Hermione sighed, causing Harry to look up from the parchment he was signing. “Mr. Burke has been admitted into St. Mungoes.” She read the rest of the notice, delivered to her desk by the Healer in charge of his care. “He’s showing extreme symptoms of withdrawal. It doesn’t look good.”

His brow furrowed. “It’s too bad we don’t have any word on the staff. Is there anything they can do?”

Harry had walked into work the morning after Hermione had put him to sleep with no memory of the last twenty-four hours. He’d been bright-eyed, surprised to find Hermione had done all the paperwork, so sure he’d have to play her for it. Hermione had subtly questioned him, but soon perceived his exhausted mind must have shut down at some point and that was the reason for his manic episode. She knew the correct course of action would have been to report it, but this was Harry. He’d only overworked himself, being the dedicated Auror he was, and the stress and little sleep had finally gotten to him.

Hermione shook her head. “They’ll do the best they can, but he’s in an advanced stage already. His body might go into shock before long, and they don’t know if they’ll be able to bring him out of it. At least, not without giving him small doses of dark magic exposure to wean him safely.”

Harry scoffed, “Like that will happen.”

Hermione agreed, knowing the treatment would be unorthodox and unsanctioned. Suddenly feeling hungry, she rose from her seat. “Want me to grab you something? I’m going to grab a bite.”

“I’m good.”

When Hermione came back ten minutes later, Harry was bent over his chair, hands in his hair. He was speaking too low for her to understand. “Harry?”

Harry’s head lifted, his face full of irritation. “What!”

She flinched in surprise. “Are you okay? You’re talking to yourself?”

All at once, his face cleared. He sighed, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just have a headache.” His face lit up when he noticed the plate in her hands. “Is that for me? Thanks, Mione. I’m starved.”

Hermione opened her mouth to correct him, remind him that he’d declined her earlier, but she shut it and gave him the plate. She no longer had an appetite.

* * *

**Week 3**

Hermione braced herself before entering Borgin and Burkes, giving Harry a nod before they walked in. She clenched her teeth as the dark magic assaulted her, though she couldn’t help but think the intensity wasn’t as severe as before. She listened for Harry’s words, but she couldn’t hear them. Hermione didn’t bother to pretend listening, there was no one in the shop for her to put on an act for.

When she was able to move freely, the first thing she noticed was Harry wasn’t there. She looked around in surprise, her gut clenching. He never strayed from her side while she fought the affect dark magic had on her. She was worried about him. Over the course of a week, his personality had changed. He muttered to himself a lot, his haggard face indicating he wasn’t sleeping well. His temper was short, Hermione often barricading themselves in their shared office so no one would set him off. People were starting to notice, often looking at her in concern. Their boss had called her in yesterday to find out if everything was okay. 

Merlin, he’d spoken to her like someone in an abusive relationship, but wasn’t that how it seemed to people? Harry’s anger was mostly taken out on her since she was with him all the time. He was short with her in public, one time even forcefully dragging her from a conversation, the grip leaving a bruise he hadn’t yet apologized for. Hermione had tentatively broached the idea of him taking a break from work, but he’d insisted he was fine, their resulting argument ending when Hermione kicked him out of her flat for the night. He’d acted like nothing happened the next day.

When she made her way to the same room they’d questioned Mr. Burke in a few weeks ago, Harry was examining the body sprawled on the floor. The notification had been made by Burke’s wife, the woman hysterical and devastated. Burke was still supposed to be in St. Mungoes, but he’d somehow been able to check himself out. They suspected a wandless Imperio, seeing as his wand had been taken from him once he’d proven not to be of sound mind. They’d only been told this morning when the Healer came for his checkup and found him gone. Not ten minutes later, his wife was wobbling into the Ministry, blood all over clothes and screaming that her husband was dead.

There was no question. Sometime between last night and this morning, Mr. Burke had met with someone in his shop and that person had killed him. His clothes were slashed everywhere, red staining his entire person from the cuts to his flesh. There were a few spells that would do it, Diffindo being the first and easiest that came to mind. She crouched on the other side of his body, taking in the bruising on his wrist. “He was restrained at some point.”

Harry didn’t answer her, his eyes on the man’s face. Prolonged silence was another element becoming commonplace in his behavior. Hermione simply went on with her examination, taking in the room and the state of the body. She tried looking for anything that might be missing from this room and made a mental note to have the entire store looked over. This family was not short on enemies after the war. Dealing with dangerous magic items was not for the faint of heart. Finding Mr. Burke’s killer was going to be incredibly difficult.

Hermione walked over and tapped Harry on the shoulder to get his attention. He tensed, and Hermione’s hand went to her wand before she relaxed, slowly berating herself for the action. This was  _ Harry _ . He’d never hurt her physically. “They have Burke’s wife waiting for us to talk to. Let’s get the scene swept before someone in the family remembers they deal in dark artifacts and tries to block our access.”

Harry slowly stood, turning and giving her an easy smile. “Sounds good, Mione.”

Burke’s widow was calmer when they arrived to talk to her, but her eyes were heavy with grief. “Mrs. Burke, my condolences for your loss. I know this is a difficult time, but we have a few questions to ask you.”

Mrs. Burke nodded, raising a blood-stained hand to her hair. Hermione held back her huff of irritation. Couldn’t they have let her wash up before sticking her in a room? “Anything, Miss Granger. I’ll tell you anything.”

Harry spoke up, his eyes trained of her from his place by the closest wall. “We’re glad to hear that. Tell me, Mrs. Burke, why did you kill your husband?”

Hermione’s head whipped around so fast, giving him an incredulous look. Mrs. Burke sputtered, “I beg your pardon? I did  _ not _ kill my husband…”

Harry shook his head, his smirk full of derision. “Come now, Mrs. Burke. Half the alley knew you two were having problems. Was it really coincidence he landed in the hospital, barking like a loon? Your family is dark, Mrs. Burke.” Harry stalked forward, slamming his hands on either side of her chair. “You can’t claim not knowing any spells that affect the mind!”

Hermione’s eyes widened, her body moving forward to pull Harry away. What had gotten into him? The second she grabbed his arm, Harry whirled around to face her. “Stop getting in my way!” He waved his hand harshly, Hermione flying into the wall. 

Hermione got to her feet, dazed, but still able to make out Harry looming over Mrs. Burke. The woman was screaming, her body trembling in her chair. He was saying something to her, his fists clenched. 

Hermione tackled him to the ground. “Harry! What-” He flipped them over, landing on top of her and wrapping his arms around her throat. She kicked out, bringing her hands to his arms to stop the pressure on her windpipe. She tried blasting him away with her magic, but then she felt it. The dark magic oozed out of him, rendering her useless as her body locked up. Her hands fell to the side, Hermione’s vision blurring at the edges. He didn’t look like her Harry in that moment. No, this man was nothing like the one she loved most in the world. He was unrecognizable in his rage, his eyes glinting yellow to her distorted sight.

Then he was being hauled off of her, someone else dragging her up and wrapping their arms around her. Hermione sucked in air, struggling to regulate her breathing and not pass out. Her blurry eyesight made out ginger hair, Ron’s mint toothpaste filling her nose as someone started speaking to her. She sagged against her other best friend, eyes filling as they landed on Harry being restrained by their boss and two other Auror’s. She touched a hand to her throat, the skin tender and already bruising. 

He suddenly sagged, his head lifting and looking around in confusion before landing on her. His expression was concerned, mouth dropping when he saw her throat. “Mione?”

She turned into Ron’s chest, silent tears running down her face and into his robes.

* * *

**Week 4**

Harry was put on suspension, status pending an internal investigation. Kingsley had almost ordered Hermione to take some time, but she couldn’t spend time in her apartment not doing anything. They’d ordered her to stay away from him. There were concerns he’d had a mental break, but he was refusing to be examined. He insisted he’d never hurt her, that they had the wrong person even with the witness accounts. Now, he’d locked himself in his home and Warded everyone out.

_ Hello There. _

__ Hermione closed her eyes, the voice in the back of her mind a balm during this time. She imagined arms closing around her, holding her close and speaking lowly to her. He would tell her everything was going to be okay, that they’d find what was wrong with Harry and fix it. She opened her eyes, gaze landing on the empty desk perpendicular to hers. She hadn’t told anyone about the dark magic that had radiated off of him. She knew she should have. As an Auror, it was her  _ duty _ to report instances like this, but it was Harry. Her shoulder’s slumped.

Kingsley knocked on the doorway. “Miss Granger.”

She smiled weakly, shuffling papers around her desk to give the appearance she’d been working. “Minister. Did you need something?”

He closed the door softly, waving her away when she would have stood. “How are you?”

Hermione shrugged. “I’m getting by, I suppose.” She bit her lip. She’d been told to stay out of it, but… “Any word on when Harry will be reinstated?”

Kingsley sighed, “Hermione… That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She stiffened. “If you’re going to tell me-”

He held up a hand, silencing her with a look. “You have no idea what I’m about to tell you, Miss Granger.” He studied her. “As you know, we reassigned the Burke murder after the incident in the conference room. A few witnesses have come forward that place Harry in Borgin and Burkes the night of the murder.”

Hermione jumped out of her chair. “That’s impossible! Minister… Kingsley, you have to listen to me. Harry may be going through something right now, but he’s not a murderer. He took oaths, the same as all of us.”

“The witnesses-”

“What witnesses?” Hermione scoffed, “Anybody living in Knockturn Alley isn’t exactly trustworthy. They’d do anything to take him down a peg or two.”

Kingsley sighed again, his shoulders curving inward as he leaned forward. “I know you’re protective of him, Hermione.”

“Because he’s done nothing wrong!” Hermione shouted, “You come in here and accuse him of murder, and expect me to believe it!”

“He attacked you.” Kingsley got to his feet, rounding her desk to grab her by the shoulders. “Hermione, something is going on with him. You thought you hid it well, but this department is full of trained professionals that notice  _ everything _ . You can’t keep protecting him!”

Her mind was telling to think logically, that was her forte. When everyone was acting on instinct and emotions, she came forward with facts and reason. But her heart was clenching at even believing what her friend was implying. It was a betrayal to a friendship she’d held true for years. She couldn’t do it.

Hermione pulled away from him, rushing around the other side of her desk and summoning her coat from the rack. “I’ll talk to him.”

“No! Hermione, wait-”

But she was already rushing to the floo and yelling the address for Harry’s before anyone could stop her.

* * *

The Wards let her in.

She’d forgotten the fact that he’d blocked everyone when she was rushing to the floo, the thought only penetrating the desperate fog that had taken over her mind as she was throwing the floo powder down. Yet, the Wards only rippled when she stumbled into Grimmauld. 

Her confusion and relief were shortlived. Dark magic was heavy in the air, the force of it an oily presence that permeated the Manor. Merlin, where had it come from? She stumbled towards the stairs, almost retching with how thick the oppressive feeling was. But something told her she didn’t have time to stop and acclimate.

She was so focused on making it up the stairs that she didn’t see the crumpled form at the top. She tripped over it, landing mostly on one knee. She slammed her palms to the ground before she fell on her face, turning her head to see what’d been in her way.

Kreacher.

Hermione bit back her cry of shock, the noise sticking in her throat. The old elf was curled up on his side, his wrinkly skin too pale. She knew he was dead without having to check. There were no obvious wounds on him. He was simply gone. 

She climbed to her feet, slipping her wand from her pocket. The sight of the cantankerous creature had settled her a bit. She could still feel the darkness all around her, but her magic had risen to protect her. She walked to the library, noting the bright glow coming from an otherwise dark room.

Harry was holding a long staff in his hand, intensely focused on the bright light in the center and not paying attention to her entering the room. The glow was the only source of visibility in the room. It cast her friend in an awful light. His hair was crazier than usual, sticking up every which way like he’d done nothing but tug at it. Day’s worth of stubble grew on his face, bags under his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled, the same ones he’d been wearing that day in the Auror department. He was nodding every so often to something only he could hear.

“Harry.”

He looked up at her, his gaze shifting from intense to blank. “Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?”

Hermione held her wand to the side, ready to bring up at a moment’s notice. “I think I should be asking you that.”

He smirked, the barest hint of quirking lips. “I happen to live here.”

“You know what I mean.” Hermione cocked her head to the side as she studied the object in his hands. “That’s the staff, isn’t it? The one that belongs to the Burke family.”

“It’s mine!” Harry snapped. He brought the staff closer to his chest. “The Burke’s didn’t deserve it, so it sought a new master.”

Hermione wanted to close her eyes in grief. “I should have listened to you when you said it appeared.”

Harry laughed, “I’m glad you didn’t. I didn’t know then what I know now. The Darkstaff… There’s so much power, Mione, there for the taking.”

She didn’t like her childhood nickname coming from this man’s mouth. “The Darkstaff? Who told you that’s what it was called?”

Harry shrugged. “It did.” His face hardened. “You need to go now. I have something to do. Don’t make me do to you what I did to Kreacher.”

Hermione lifted her wand. “Kreacher’s dead, Harry. Are you saying you killed him?”

He eyed her wand with amusement. “What do you think you’re doing, Mione? You do realize I’m the stronger of the two of us, don’t you? You may be smart but I have more magic strength.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “But that’s never stopped me before. Hand over the staff, Harry.”

He started to say something, but then he stopped, eyes dipping to the staff. When he looked back up, he lifted a brow in challenge. “Come take it from me, then.”

Harry pointed the Darkstaff at her. Hermione cast her strongest breaking charm at the same time the light came her way. The magic collided, the resounding backlash throwing the furniture in the room against the bookshelves. Hermione gripped her wand with both hands, already feeling the pressure to submit against the sheer darkness coming from the staff. The ground was shaking, either in actuality or her legs were starting to fail. As she fell to one knee, Hermione knew one thing for sure.

She was losing.

Harry was watching her impassively, barely sparing a glance for the chaos around them. She looked around frantically at the brush of wind at her back. The broken furniture was starting to swirl around them, books flying off their shelves and into the growing storm. She didn’t know how this was happening. Standoff’s between wands didn’t result in this form of mayhem. Yet, the Darkstaff wasn’t a typical wand.

Wand.

Hermione’s eyes zoomed to the seam in Harry’s trousers. He had a holster there, charmed so that only the two of them could remove the wand hidden there. Would he have remembered that in his descent into madness? It had been done so long ago when they’d been assigned to each other as partners…

Removing one hand from her wand, she cast her fingers Harry’s way. Her dominant hand wavered, arm shaking from the effort to keep her spell going. She could feel her magic draining because Harry was right. She was smart, but his magic output was off the charts compared to her. 

Harry’s wand sailed from its holster to her waiting palm. 

She gripped it tightly, casting a second spell at the staff. The magic crashed into the other two powers, blazing light exploding from the center. Hermione dropped the spells, bringing her hands up in an attempt to shield herself. The ground disappeared from beneath her with a loud crack. She expected to land painfully on the bottom floor, but she kept falling. Her arm spasmed, her scar burning almost as bad as when she received it. Her cry of pain was lost as the hand holding Harry’s wand loosened, and she lost consciousness. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy May 4th Everyone! 
> 
> I know the story just posted today, but its Star Wars day! So another chapter awaits! Also, Clone Wars is over and my heart has been pulverized so there's that.
> 
> Enjoy!

The Jedi High Council met for an emergency meeting, those not able to be there in person attending through the holo feature on their cruisers. Obi-Wan was one of the last to enter the meditation room at the top of the tower, having been sparring with Anakin when he received the summons.

_ Buggering Hell, you’ve got to be kidding me. _

He shook his head at the words in the back of his mind. He knew the concept of soulmates, but it was hard for him to reconcile that his fated one was so uncivilized. She sounded so discontented. Not that it mattered. Once upon a time, he’d dreamt of finding her. The Council wouldn’t have forbidden the relationship as long as his judgment could remain unclouded. She’d never appeared though, and now they were in the middle of a war that had no end in sight. Even if he were to find her, he had too many responsibilities to find time for a relationship. Not to mention Satine…

“Now that everyone is here. We can get started.”

Mace Windu’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he put notions of his soulmate aside to focus on whatever event that would bring the Council together in an emergency. 

“Been news from the Crelythiumn System, there has,” Yoda said. 

Ki-Adi-Mundi leaned back in his chair, his hologram shifting slightly in interference. “The Crelythiumn System? That’s far beyond the outer rim. What could be going on there?”

Mace and Yoda shared a grim look. “We’re not sure. An old Sith signal was discovered by the fleet patrolling nearest the area.”

Obi-Wan came to attention. “Sith? That can’t be a coincidence. Do we know what planet?”

Mace shook his head. “We only know it came from that system. Due to the origin, we advised the Admiral in charge not to investigate. There have been no Sith for years. This signal is old.”

“Never come across it, I have.” Yoda said, “Hmmm. One of us, we must send.”

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his beard. “I will go. With the 212th on rotation planetside, I have nothing pressing to take care of.” He suddenly felt the need to go, knew he was supposed to. The urge filled his head until he knew it was the Force directing him, he was sure of it.

No one seemed to object. “Take Skywalker and his men,” Yoda ordered. “As it seems, all is not.”

Obi-Wan nodded his agreement, rising from his seat. “Of course. I will leave right away.”

* * *

“Do you think it’s an actual Sith, Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan shifted his attention to Ahsoka, the young Torgruta fidgeting nervously in her seat. “I have no idea, Ahsoka, but the Council can’t take the chance that it isn’t.”

Anakin drummed his fingers against the console. He’d been antsy after so many hours on the ship. “It would be nice to see some action after sitting around for so long. I wonder if Rex has located the source of the signal yet.”

He shook his head at his former Padawan. “Always so eager to throw yourself in danger, Anakin.”

They jumped out of Hyperspace, the  _ Resolute _ already in orbit around a small planet. Anakin engaged the comms. “Rex, we’re at the rendezvous point.”

Captain Rex’s miniature form appeared on the console. “We see you, General. We’ve located the signal, but haven’t approached per your orders.”

That was something Obi-Wan liked about Rex. He always got the job done. “Good job, Captain. Meet us on the planet’s surface with a squad. Be prepared to engage.”

“Yes Sir.”

Anakin waited until Rex had signed off before turning to Obi-Wan. “Do you think it’s wise to bring troopers to a confrontation with a Sith?”

“We don’t know what we’re walking into,” he pointed out. “We’ll go in prepared.”

Anakin nodded and took them down to the planet’s atmosphere, a troop transport following behind a moment later. He locked onto the signal provided by Rex. The planet’s condition was arid, nothing but rock formations and hard-packed dirt. Obi-Wan didn’t see anything that would equate Sith or dangerous. There was no crushing feeling like his ill-fated mission with Senator Organa, no external force trying to push into his mind.   


Ahsoka spotted them first, head poking out between the front seats. “There, Masters. Two people, they look human.”

Obi-Wan looked where she directed, Anakin having already spotted them and giving directions to Rex through the comms. There were indeed two, a man and a woman, and they were fighting. From here, he could feel the dark energy wafting from the area around them. From the looks on Anakin and Ahsoka’s faces, they had as well.

They’d found their Sith.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes, squinting at the glaring light shining down on her. She knew right away this wasn’t England. It wasn’t the right season for the country to have this much sun. She was tired. Her body ached from fatigue, her magic drained. Her head lolled to the side, eyes landing on two familiar wands laying next to her.

Harry.

She struggled to her knees, gaze wildly searching until she saw him. He was sprawled on his side, the bloody staff on the ground next to him. Hermione grabbed for the wands, holstering them before crawling to him. Her legs didn’t feel strong enough to stand, the crawl more of a hobbling shuffle. The ground felt rough, nothing but rocks and dirt from what she could see. Hermione wasn’t trying hard to take in their surroundings. All she could see was the blood dripping down Harry’s nose and mouth.

She reached for the staff, intending to chuck it as far as her weakened arm could throw it.

Dark magic blasted her away as soon as she touched it, sending her body tumbling back where she’d woken up. She landed on her front, head clipping a rock when she stopped. She bit her lip against the pain, could feel blood seeping down her left arm. She watched it run a trail down her torn shirt, creating a small pool on the dirt below. 

“You shouldn’t touch it.”

Hermione lifted her head, dizzily gazing at Harry as he stood from his prone position. He picked up the Darkstaff, almost cradling it in his arms as the light pulsed. “Why?” she asked. She didn’t know what question she wanted answered. Why did he do this? Why had he brought them here? Merlin, where was here?

Was this him or the staff? Was her Harry still in there?

Harry shrugged. “It doesn’t like you. You tried to separate us. Kreacher learned not to try and take the Darkstaff away from me.”

She placed both palms on the ground, forcing her aching body to get up. She couldn’t stay on the ground. “What happened to Kreacher, Harry? Did you Avada him?”

He snorted, “Of course not. That’s an Unforgivable, you know. No, Kreacher tried to pry the staff from my hands. In return, it took the life from him.”

She made it as far as her knees, breathing slowly to calm the instinct to flee or fight. Her magic was flickering inside of her, trying to rise. “Harry, we can sort this out. The staff is controlling you, I know it. Let’s contain it, and take it back to the Ministry. The Unspeakables can lock it down until they find a way to dispel the magic.”

“Unbelievable,” Harry laughed in disbelief. He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head as he looked her over. “You can’t even stand, and you’re asking me to do the impossible? Look at you! The staff was trying to drain you too, and it almost succeeded. You can’t make me do anything.”

“There’s always a choice, Harry.” Hermione forced her legs to cooperate, once again attempting to rise. Her legs shook as soon as she was on her feet. “You can choose to come with me. You can choose to let the staff go.”

“Choices,” Harry murmured. “I don’t think you realize, but I’ve never had a choice.”

She drew the wands in her possession, lifting her chin in defiance of the exhaustion she was feeling. “Harry Potter, you’re under arrest for the suspicious killing of Kreacher the House Elf who was under your care and the murder of Elias Burke. Other charges include but are not limited to possession of a dark artifact, unauthorized Portkey travel, and the assault of an Auror. Surrender the Darkstaff and come peacefully.”

Harry laughed before she’d finished talking, body curving inward as he clutched his abdomen. “How pathetic. You’re spouting this tripe when we’re clearly past the Ministry’s jurisdiction? And you’re going to use my own wand against me?”

“Not against you,” Hermione murmured. “Never against you.”

She shot an Expelliarmus at him, but he managed to keep hold of the staff and sidestep her spell. He shot energy back at her, Hermione putting up a shield. The magic from the staff covered her shield, her magic holding but she could feel it reaching for her. Her spell weakened under the invisible assault. Harry just stood there, watching, making no attempt to advance. 

Eventually, her shield faded, and so did the foreign magic. Harry shot another blast at her, but this time Hermione jumped to the side. Her magical reserves had diminished in the two times her magic had made contact with the power of the Darkstaff. That couldn’t be a coincidence. 

He lashed out with his free hand, a wandless spell flying from his fingers. Hermione put up a barrier for that one, the blue light dissipating as it should. Another one, orange in color, hit her a moment later. Her protection shattered instantly. Hermione stumbled back from the force of the spell. Damn Harry and his ease with wandless magic.

The sound of engines distracted the two of them. Hermione looked over, prepared to apparate to Harry and force him out of the area if she had to. With the Darkstaff possessing him, he might kill any Muggles that crossed him. Once that happened, Hermione knew there would be no turning back for him. Even when they rid him of the dark magic controlling him, the deaths would weigh on his mind for the rest of his life.

Two aircraft were flying towards them, one bigger than the other. She’d never seen the like of them before, and Hermione  _ knew _ that should be a worry but all she could feel was frustration at another unknown when she needed to concentrate. From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Harry lift the staff. He attacked the smaller plane, launching an attack straight at the front of the craft. Hermione cast another spell in the same direction, the two clashing, a shockwave spreading in the air. Hermione cast a jinx Harry’s way while he was too distracted to notice. He flew back, his body hitting a grouping of medium-sized rocks. 

Hermione made to run to him, but shouting filled the area, booted feet running towards her. She turned her head, blinking in surprise when a dozen men in mostly white armor surrounded her, their guns trained on her with zero hesitation. The one in front of her held two pistols close to her chest, his armor a little different from the rest. Hermione didn’t raise her wands, but she didn’t lay them down either, trying to gauge what they would do.

Three people made their way past the crowd, the soldiers parting for them without question. Her mind took in the unfamiliar woman, her mind stuttering to a halt at her appearance. She was nowhere close to human, and Hermione was left feeling uneasy. She didn’t have the chance to focus on that, because the two men with the alien female placed themselves in front of her, the man with the two guns backing away to make room. She barely skimmed over the brunette before coming to a stop on the man with auburn hair. He was studying her, his eyes taking in everything from her appearance to her weapons. 

Finally, he inclined his head, hand dropping from the metal hilt clipped to his clothing. “Hello there.”

Hermione froze, her mouth dropping open as the well-known phrase passed his lips. The accent was the same she’d heard all her life, as was the same curious inflection. Merlin, what were the odds? “Buggering Hell, you’ve  _ got _ to be kidding me,” she exclaimed. Why did fate hate her? To drop her soulmate on her at a time like this was just torture.

He startled, eyes widening when she spoke. The man beside him paused, surprised, looking from his friend to her. Hermione shook her head at the timing, but a slight tingle warned her just in time. She spun, wands lifting in the air. “Protego horribilis!”

The barrier formed around the group in time for the dark magic to hit it. Hermione gasped, feeling her already depleted magic stores drain a little more. Everyone was looking up at the shimmering magic. Harry hit them again, Hermione’s shoulders sagging and the shield wavering. She needed to go at him before he used a penetrating spell.

She turned to her soulmate, startled to find him watching her again. “Stay inside this shield.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think-”

She was already running past the men in armor, away from him. She left the protection of the shield, barely dodging the light that landed where she’d just been. Harry was glowering at the crowd, his aura radiating anger. She took a step towards him. “Harry, please stop this.”

“The Jedi need to die.”

Hermione felt them come up behind her, a steady buzz accompanying them. Were they the Jedi he was talking about? She ignored them, her attention focused on the man in front of her. “No one needs to die. Merlin, Harry, enough of this! You’re stronger than this!”

He inclined his head. “You’re right, I am stronger. I don’t know why you continue to fight me.”

A hand grabbed her arm as he attacked again, her body jumping back an impossible length. She knew it was him before she turned to glare at him. The hand not gripping her arm was holding a sword she’d never seen before, the buzzing from earlier coming from the blue light that made up the blade. Hermione heard the telltale crack of apparition, gritting her teeth when she turned back and saw an empty space where Harry used to be.

“He was using the Dark Side of the Force,” her soulmate said to his friend.

The other man nodded. “I could feel it. He was strong with it.” He looked down at Hermione. “What do you want to do with her?” They deactivated their swords.

Hermione tugged her arm away from her soulmate, stepping back and raising her wands. The soldiers from earlier stormed forward, and they were suddenly back how they’d started. She could feel the adrenalin starting to leave her. “I don’t know who you are, but you aren’t doing anything with me.”

“You know exactly who I am,” the auburn-haired man spoke. “In any case, my name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master and High General of the Grand Army of the Republic.” He cleared his throat when she said nothing. “Maybe you can lower your...weapons and introduce yourself.”

Hermione looked warily at the men surrounding her, their guns ready to lift at a moment’s notice. Obi-Wan noticed this, and with a lifted hand gesture, the soldiers were lowering their weapons and stepping back. He looked at her expectantly. She rolled her eyes and sighed, “My name is Hermione Granger. I’m an Auror with the British Ministry of Magic. Before you say what I  _ know _ you’re going to say, I should have you know that I’ve never heard of the Grand Army of the Republic or the Jedi.”

“Nor have we the British Ministry of Magic or Aurors,” Obi-Wan rubbed his beard. “Do you have proof of who you say you are?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “My credentials are in my pocket. Do you?”

The man beside Obi-Wan laughed, “Our lightsabers are our identifiers. I’m Anakin Skywalker and this is my Padawan, Ahsoka.” He gestured to the alien female watching her. He eyed her seriously a moment later. “Your friend was strong in the Dark Side, it was wafting off of him clear to us. You feel like it too, somewhat.”

Hermione’s head began to hurt. “If you’re talking about dark magic, I’m already aware.” She pinched the bridge of her nose when a spike of pain passed through her temple. “Look, there is a lot of talking to do, an incredible amount actually, but I’m too drained to even put up a fight if you decide to turn on me.” She looked at Obi-Wan. “I’m trusting you not to. I know you have to take me with you, so I won’t fight you.”

“She does look done in, Masters.” Everyone turned their heads to Ahsoka, the young woman hunching her shoulders at their stares. “Just saying.”

Obi-Wan faced her. “We’ll have a medical droid examine you before we talk.” Anakin began to shout orders, the men dispersing until it was just the two of them still standing in the same place. “They’ll be able to give you something for the headache and fatigue.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed, reluctantly putting her wands away. There was no reason to have them out now. “How did you know…”

He put his hand on her back, leading her to the ship Harry had initially shot at. “All in due time, my dear.” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat with my on Twitter or Tumblr: MWolfe13


	3. Chapter 3

Anakin and Obi-Wan watched the droid look over Hermione from the windows of the medical room. She kept looking at them every so often, but her eyes were darting everywhere, taking everything in. Her exhaustion was obvious to anyone who looked at her. The two Jedi could feel her physical and emotional pain. 

“She is tainted with the Dark Side yet I don’t think she’s Sith,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, that is not the impression I get.”

Anakin looked at him. “Those words she spoke to you…”

He sighed, “Yes. She’s my soulmate, Anakin. There’s no mistaking the aggrieved tone.”

Anakin snorted, looking back through the glass to study her. “She’s pretty.”

Obi-Wan shot him a look. “Anakin-”

The younger Jedi held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just saying. You lucked out.” He was silent for a moment. “What do you plan to do? Her use of the Force was...different.”

Seeing the droid was leaving her side, Obi-Wan steeled himself. “I’m going to get answers. Don’t forget, Anakin, she was fighting with someone who was very much entrenched in the Dark Side.”

* * *

Hermione watched him as he came into the room, Anakin by his side. The robot wearing the apparently universal sign for medical had plastered wet strips to all her gashes. She was told she would be healed in no time, though they could do nothing for the bruises or the scars that already existed. Hermione had just watched everything with curious amazement. Everything she’d seen since meeting Obi-Wan and his men were different from her own world. 

She couldn’t deny that she was in an entirely different realm. The things she’d seen so far had come straight out of a fantasy novel. She’d gone into space for Merlin’s sake. If that didn’t tell her she was very far from home, nothing would.

Hermione also considered the possibility that her fight with Harry had ended badly, that she was still in the library of Grimmauld, trapped in her own mind. Maybe she was in a coma, her subconscious creating this world to help her cope. Maybe she was  _ dead _ , a likely scenario though that didn’t explain why she was here. No, not even her wildest nightmares had ever turned Harry against her so thoroughly and the afterlife couldn’t be that cruel. Then there was him...Obi-Wan Kenobi, her soulmate. 

Of all the possible men she’d envisioned when thinking of her other half, he hadn’t been it. He was handsome, with his auburn hair and bluish-gray eyes. His demeanor screamed confidence and authority. The men in armor had deferred to him for a lot of things when they’d made it onto the spaceship, their tones warmly respectful. Hermione had never imagined him, but she wasn’t disappointed. If anything, she was cursing fate for being so damn frustrating. Did her soulmate  _ have _ to be from this place she might never have come to? Where was the fairness in that? 

His eyes roved over her as he stopped in front of her. His friend, Anakin, was speaking quietly with the medical droid. “How are you feeling?”

Hermione gestured to the liquid gel that covered various wounds on her body. “I’m told these will make me good as new, so I can’t complain. Thank you for using some of your supplies on me.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan murmured. “We couldn’t leave you like that.”

She sighed, “I imagine you have questions.”

“A few, yes.” He brought a finger up to brush against one of the bruises on her neck. “The first being how you got these.”

Hermione bit her lip. “I honestly don’t know where to start. There’s so much…”

“You can start by telling us where you’re from,” Anakin said as he walked over. “The medical droid said the answers to your history didn’t make sense.”

Ah, yes, the droid had asked for her home system. Hermione could only assume that meant planet, so she’d told it Earth. Then it had asked for her birthday and when she’d given it, the droid had calmly stated that she couldn’t have been born in 1979 and still be alive for a regular human. Then came the medical history. Of course, this had led to the uncomfortable scenario of explaining why she didn’t have any of the required shots the droid had listed. At the end of it all, Hermione was sure the droid had calculated that she was suffering from a severe head wound.

“It’s complicated,” Hermione told them. “I’m not sure…” She trailed off as she felt something brush against her mind. Her natural shields were up, but the drain on her magic left her defenses weak. The merest hint of someone trying to read her was like prodding a live wire. Hermione sucked in a breath, hands coming up in warning. She wasn’t sure how much of a wandless threat she could be, but they didn’t need to know that. “Stop it!”

The sensation stopped abruptly, Anakin looking at her in shock. “You felt that?” Obi-Wan didn’t say anything though he sent a disapproving frown his friend’s way.

“Weren’t you taught that rummaging through minds without permission is rude?” Hermione scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “If I wasn’t so exhausted, I could have done you harm on instinct.”

“And how exactly would you do that?” Anakin copied her pose, his gloved hands fisting under his arms. “Tell us what we want to know.”

She stared at him coldly, telling them with her mutinous gaze that she was  _ not _ speaking another word.

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling Anakin’s anger rise to the surface. This would escalate beyond what he could fix if he didn’t intervene now. Shifting in front of Hermione, Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin’s chest. “Why don’t you notify the Council of our findings so far? Master Yoda is waiting to hear from us.” He lowered his voice, leaning in. “By the time they’ve gathered the other Master’s, I should have more to tell them.”

Anakin opened his mouth, to protest no doubt, before he shut it. “Of course. Good luck.”

Hermione watched him stalk out of the room, her earlier anger ebbing when it was only her and Obi-Wan in the room. He faced her again, eyebrow lifting. She felt oddly defensive, as if she needed to explain her reaction. “He shouldn’t have probed me without my consent.”

“I apologize on his behalf.” Obi-Wan relaxed his stance. “As Jedi, reading surface thoughts and emotions come easily to us. Anakin would never force his way into your mind without your approval. He was only reaching out through the Force to see what he could sense.”

She sighed, “I have too many questions on those words alone, but I don’t think my brain can handle the information overload at the moment.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ll give you the answers I have, but I’ll warn you now, and open mind is needed.”

And she did look tired. Obi-Wan already knew she was wrung dry from all directions. Her fragility was a wave in the Force, though he could sense the hidden strength beneath the confusion and despair that surrounded her. There was curiosity as well, innocent and open, with an ingrained cautiousness that spoke to the history he saw in her eyes. Deep down, he regretted needing to push her, but that hardiness he felt at her core allowed him to proceed with his duty.

“I suppose I should start at the beginning.” Hermione gave him a hesitant smile. “The first thing you should know is that I’m not from here.”

His brow furrowed. “You mean you aren’t from the Crelythiumn System? Or the Outer Rim?”

She mouthed the word Crelythiumn to herself, shaking her head. “No, and please bear with me. I know this is going to sound impossible, but I’m not  _ from here _ . As in, this dimension or realm, whatever you want to call it.”

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his mouth, not quite disguising his disbelief. “You’re right. That does sound impossible. We are a huge  _ Galaxy _ , there are systems we have yet to explore.”

Hermione’s mouth twisted in agitation. “I’m not explaining this right.” She blew out a breath. “Okay, so maybe I should start somewhere else. You call yourselves Jedi, right? That’s how you’re able to use magic?”

“The Force flows through everyone,” Obi-Wan told her. “Only Force Sensitives like Anakin, and Ahsoka, and I can use it.”

“Well, where I come from, I’m a Witch.” She bit her lip. “The Force flows through everyone? That’s different from magic.”

They stared at each other, questions in both their eyes. Finally, Obi-Wan held out a hand to her. “I have an idea, but we will need to be alone and undisturbed.” 

Hermione took his hand, allowing him to pull her out of the medical room. They walked swiftly through the halls, passing various soldiers along the way. Some still wore their helmets, carrying rifles in both hands while others were more relaxed with their headpieces tucked under their arms. Obi-Wan was marching them with purpose, hardly stopping in his quest to… wherever he was taking them. Hermione could barely stop and take a good look at the men roaming the ship, though her confusion grew as their features were mostly the same. Some had different markings or hair colors, but Hermione was trained to notice people. What she noticed was different men with the same features, no matter their attempts to distinguish themselves. They weren’t similar, but  _ exactly the same _ . It was as if someone had taken one man and cloned him.

She blinked at the very real possibility of that being likely. The technology wasn’t even remotely workable in her world, but this place was so much more advanced. Had they perfected the theory of cloning? It was a hotly debated topic among scientists in the Muggle population, and her people would never hear of such a thing. 

Her eyes focused on the back of her soulmate’s head more intently. Were there copies of  _ him _ running around this dimension?

He stopped in front of a door, the metal swishing one way as he stepped forward. Hermione looked at the sparse living arrangements as the door closed behind her. There were various electronic readers strewn over a small desk, a double bed neatly made against the opposite corner of the room. 

“I can feel your curiosity. You have questions.”

“Oh, only about a million.” Hermione gave him a small grin. “Collecting knowledge is useful. Harry calls me his talking encyclopedia.” Her lips turned down, eyes falling to the side. 

Obi-Wan tilted her chin with his finger so that he could see her eyes. “You love him. Your pain is deep.”

“He’s my brother in every way that counts,” she whispered. “We’ve been through a lot together. To see him like this…” She closed her eyes, clenching her fists. “It would kill him to know that  _ thing _ was possessing him. He’s a good man, one of the best.”

Obi-Wan didn’t tell her that her friend was completely entrenched in the Dark Side. He didn’t think she’d welcome the observation. “Before we can help you, we need to know everything. Your circumstances are... unbelievable. The Council will require proof.”

Hermione opened her eyes, pushing past the need to curl up and cry. She wouldn’t be able to help him that way. “Is my wand not enough? I have my Auror identification in my pocket to verify who I am. Not that it will matter, I guess, seeing as my world doesn’t exist here.” At least, she didn’t think it did. 

“That’s why I brought you here, where we are unlikely to be disturbed,” Obi-Wan told her. “There is a meditation technique we can try that will allow me to connect with you in the Force, and see your memories. It requires absolute concentration on both our parts. I will see what you think about as if I were there.”

So like a living Pensieve. If only she had one of  _ those _ . She would be more comfortable copying her memories into the ornate artifact than let someone into her mind. She’d never grown comfortable with the idea of Legilimency, preferring to build shields around her mind so that she’d never be susceptible to mind magic. 

Hermione chastised herself for hesitating. Yes, Obi-Wan was a stranger, but he was her  _ soulmate _ . He was willing to help her. It would be easier to show him where she came from instead of confusing him with explanations. 

Still, the notion of opening up completely was daunting, no matter his status in her life. “My mind will be vulnerable if I let you in,” she told him truthfully. “My magic is exhausted. I won’t be able to fight you if you decide to go digging.”

Obi-Wan brought the hand he was holding up to his lips, pressing a small kiss to her knuckles. “I promise I won’t take more than you are willing to give.”

Why did she get the feeling he was talking about more than just seeing inside her mind? But the gentleness in his tone had calmed her. Her heart told her she could trust him.

“Okay,” Hermione whispered. “Let’s do it.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr and Twitter: MWolfe13


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